


Light of the Soul

by imtrash



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Gen, Hella, M/M, childhood freind au, oh no he's hot au, rei and shinji as siblings, the height of lilim garbage, these kids are queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imtrash/pseuds/imtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinji and Kaworu have been friends for as long as they can remember, but their friendship hits an unexpected rock when Kaworu is forced to move thousands of miles away. Will their bonds be able to withstand the distance and time apart?</p><p>Maybe. Probably. You know how it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What is This Feeling?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/41905) by beta. 



The sun was setting at an alarming speed. Its light poured like crimson grains of sand onto the unsuspecting city streets below. Kaworu reached out, trying to catch the rays in cupped hands, to keep them from disappearing, to keep time from moving on. He had never given the concept of time much thought before. If things couldn’t be found within the aged pages of his grandfather’s books, then he couldn’t find room for them inside his head, either. But if he could stop time, so many wonderful things would be possible. He wouldn’t need to leave Tokyo-3. Or Shinji. He could carry on spending weekends at the Ikari residence, listening to his friends complaints about public school, living vicariously through all of his stories.

Three days. Three days was all he had left to tell Shinji of their inevitable parting. Before that, he had two weeks, and before that a month. Most of his things had already shipped to his new home, sealing his fate.

The closer Kaworu got to his departure date, the harder it became to say goodbye. Goodbyes had a rather final sound to them, Kaworu thought, like the ending to a book. If this was the story of his and Shinji’s friendship, then he was not ready to end it. So, he put it off, adding more words even when they didn’t make sense, clinging to each and every page.

Not that Shinji needed more time. He had carried on every day in blissful ignorance, seemingly unaware of the situation at hand. Although, on a few occasions, he had wondered why Kaworu was so upset when his grandfather came to pick him up. It was hard to read Kaworu sometimes and now was no different than before.

Shinji tiptoed into the living room to join Kaworu, taking his place beside the pasty lump and giving it a small nudge with his shoulder.

“Finally, I thought she was never going to pass out,” he whispered, folding his legs beneath him and shifting from side to side to get comfortable.

Like Kaworu, Shinji’s parents were rarely home. A majority of the house work was left for the ten year old to tend to, as well as some of his guardians more parental duties. Like making sure his younger sister, Rei, was fed and in bed by eight. This rule applied to Shinji as well, but he felt it was only fair he extend his bedtime. He was, after all, mature.

He unloaded the events of his day onto Kaworu, about how his mother accidentally gave Rei a heating pad instead of a cooling pad in her morning routine of panic and confusion. It wasn’t a big error, but Rei complained about it later on. Since then, Shinji had been busy taking care of his sick sister, lest their mother try to ‘help’ and accidentally send someone to the hospital.

Kaworu didn’t find Ms. Ikari’s dangerously careless ways amusing the way Shinji did. For show, he tried to chuckle, but halfway through it released into a rather sad sigh.

“What’s wrong,” Shinji asked, his smile turning into a frown. Kaworu wrapped his thin arms, resembling noodles rather than limbs, around his knees and hugged them tightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat, like a spoonful of peanut butter.

“Kaworu, what’s wrong,” Shinji repeated more gently, leaning over and resting his hand on his friend’s pale freckled forearm, like a coffee stain on a fresh sheet of paper. Shinji had never really found Kaworu frightening, white hair and red eyes was uncommon but not impossible. He had read about it on the internet once when a girl in his class chastised him for hanging out with “that albino kid”. But Kaworu wasn’t albino, just different.

Shinji understood why Kaworu could never go to school like him, why Kaworu did not like playing at the park, why Kaworu was afraid of people.

Which was why Shinji had promised to protect him. Kaworu couldn’t complain, he was aware that he relied entirely too much on his friends kindness. Spending time with the Ikari’s was the only comfort he had. Warmer than any blanket, more interesting than any book. They had given his life hope where none seemed possible. He felt almost human around them.

Kaworu shook his head fervently, the sharp movements whipping tangled white locks around like a lace curtain in a hurricane.

“N-nothing. Just a stomach ache.”

“Want some medicine? We might have some left from when dad ate that spoiled fish.”

Shinji moved to stand, but thin brittle fingers held him back with surprising strength.

“Stay,” Kaworu’s voice was raspy, threatening to break at any moment. Despite their glaring size difference, Shinji thought that Kaworu seemed very small beside him, holding onto his hand. Like when his sister got scared but wouldn’t admit it and he would tell her “Be brave!”

Except Shinji didn’t want to tell Kaworu to be brave. He wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay. But something sick and heavy churned in his stomach, tumbling his emotions and words like a washer stuck in spin cycle. So he squeezed Kaworu’s hand, entwining their fingers, in hopes that somehow Kaworu would understand him.

Kaworu missed the message. He blindly held Shinji’s hand, lost in a myriad of thoughts. He played and replayed each of the possibilities of how he would tell Shinji the news.

He would tell Shinji he was leaving, and Shinji would cry until his eyes were puffy and red like Kaworu’s own, until he could no longer breathe without hiccuping. He would tell Shinji he was leaving, and Shinji would be so upset that he would strike him repeatedly, yelling various curse words that were reserved for such occasions. And Kaworu would be fine with that. He deserved to be yelled at.

The worst scenario was when he told Shinji he was leaving, and Shinji said nothing at all.

Shinji’s grip loosened, the warmth and comfort of his hand fading away. Kaworu let the words fall out of his mouth in a panicked mess, tears threatening to spill from his deep red eyes. Shinji averted his gaze, and Kaworu wished he would have hit him in the face instead. It would have hurt far less.

“Oh.” Was all Shinji managed to say after an eternity of silence. And then, “When?”

“Monday…”

“Oh.”

In the three years they had known each other, Shinji had never felt anger towards Kaworu. And now, three days before Kaworu’s flight, Shinji was more angry than he had ever been in his short life. Even more angry than the time Rei took his favorite gunpla and shoved it into her soiled diaper. Kaworu and him had never kept secrets from one another, no matter how bad it seemed.

Shinji felt… betrayed.

“Shinji, I’m sorry…” Kaworu croaked, tears spilling out furiously, accompanied by a rather heavy amount of mucus dribbling.

Shinji was overwhelmingly conflicted. His heart ached terribly and his eyes stung from the heat of unshed tears, egged on by the sounds of Kaworu’s sobbing. Anger had subsided into a general muddle miserable feeling. He had vowed to protect Kaworu, yet was the reason he cried. He had to make this right.

Shinji sighed loudly, kneeling up and wiping Kaworu’s messy face with the hem of his shirt before wrapping his small, chubby arms around the frail form.

"For what? This isn’t your fault. It can’t be helped."

Kaworu pulled away, peering at Shinji’s face in hopes of seeing some sign that he, too, was upset. But there was no trace of pain, no sign of the betrayal he felt. There was nothing but the gentle eyes and soft smile that Kaworu had grown to love so much. However, now it felt painful.

"B-but I-"

"I’ll write to you," Shinji cut in quickly, voice frantic. "And so will Rei. We’ll write to you everyday. I’ll ask my dad if I can call you, so make sure you give me your new phone number!"

Kaworu pressed his face into the small warm chest of his best friend and nodded. Shinji did not care that his shirt was covered in snot. He leaned down and rested his cheek on top of the matted chaos that was Kaworu Fuyutsuki’s hair.

"I’ll miss you, Shinji," Kaworu whispered, hiccuping between breaths. "I don’t want to go. What if you forget about me?"

"I won’t," Shinji said softly, squeezing Kaworu reassuringly around the shoulders. "So promise you’ll come back to me."

Fresh tears soaked the front of Shinji’s shirt as Kaworu sobbed. He was very sure that Kaworu would break if he continued crying so hard.

"I promise."

**╰☆╮**  


Monday came and Shinji’s parents allowed him and Rei to miss school to see Kaworu off. They had stopped by the store to pick up gifts for the plane trip. Rei had chosen a magazine about trains although Shinji was sure she had chosen it to get the prize inside. Shinji had trouble picking a candy, so he convinced his mother to buy both.

Kaworu and his grandfather looked very tired, but Shinji was certain that Kaworu had cried the night before. His face looked slightly swollen and flushed, like a strawberry marshmallow. It did not feel like Kaworu was leaving. They spent a few hours talking and for a moment both boys forgot they were in the airport.

It wasn’t till Kaworu’s flight number was called that they snapped back to reality, feeling sick with dread. Kaworu had never flown on a plane, but he was one hundred percent sure he would be sick on it.

Everyone hugged while Kaworu’s grandfather talked to Shinji’s father about work related things. Shinji wondered if he would have had to move if his father had to take this important job instead of Mr. Fuyutsuki. Would he have waited so long to tell Kaworu?

They said their goodbyes, but Shinji chose to say “See you later” instead, much to his mothers disapproval. Goodbyes felt so final and Kaworu had promised to return.

Kaworu gave Rei one last hug before heading towards his terminal. The last thing Shinji saw was the white of Kaworu’s messy hair growing smaller and smaller as he disappeared amongst the crowd of people hurrying to their flights.

It wasn’t till he was back in the car, staring at the speck of white in the sky that held an even smaller speck of white that was his best friend, that Shinji finally cried.


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaworu is back, but is Shinji ready to face the changes of puberty and time?
> 
> Yeah, totally.

Deep into the summer night, street lights flickered bright against Shinji’s dark ceiling. They twinkled and danced overhead, imitating the starry sky that stretched far past Tokyo-3. The sweet warmth of summer was enough to lull him to sleep, had it not been so suffocatingly humid. He tossed and turned, flipping his pillow over this way then that way, trying to capture the brief coolness. The relief it provided was fleeting, almost immediately replaced by the uncomfortable heat and stickiness of his own sweat.

Shinji was restless.

He’d abandoned his bed to lay on the cool floor, melting into the the cracks of the floorboards like a forgotten popsicle. It had to be the most humid night in the history of Tokyo-3, Shinji was sure of it. The heat wasn’t his problem, although it did nothing to improve his steadily growing bad mood. No, the cause of his anxiety sat on his desk, cream colored and neatly folded, only slightly wrinkled from being held in sweaty palms.

Even through the dimness of his room Shinji could see the familiar unruly handwriting of his childhood friend. Every word had been committed to memory, in case he encountered a life or death situation that depended on the letters’ contents. If someone were to ask why Kaworu’s grandfather decided to switch from green tea to black tea in a threatening manner, Shinji could answer it in a heart beat.

Kaworu’s’ grandfathers’ choice in tea wasn’t what was on Shinji’s mind however. There on the bottom of the second page, hastily scribbled with excitement, was a sentence he’d stopped hoping to see.

I’m coming home, Shinji.

A dull aching pain subdued his restless limbs, his chest growing tighter under the invisible weight of his own thoughts. Four years had come and gone since Kaworu had left for Germany. Four years Shinji had struggled with the absence of his best friend. Even with the distance, they had managed to keep in touch, sending each other letters faster than their guardians could buy stamps.

Over the years, thick envelopes filled with the detail’s of their lives had piled up; How Shinji started to learn cello so Rei wouldn’t be alone at music lessons, how his class had gotten a German exchange student who liked to pick on him. In return Kaworu told him about his grandfather insisting he take piano lessonsand how he’d been put in a dance class to help ‘boost his energy’. The only thing their letters could not convey was how much they missed each other.

Though Shinji had promised to call Kaworu as often as possible, he’d quickly learned that that was out of the question. Fact were facts: long distance phonecalls costed money and his mother had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t find it necessary. She had little faith that her son and his timid friend would remain friends so far apart. It only took six months for her resolve to crumble as she placed another letter into the mailbox for her young son. Shinji could call, but under very strict conditions: He was only allowed to call on birthdays, holidays, and certain special occasions. Truly, it had been a win for the two boys, but even then it didn’t feel like enough.

Soon, however, Kaworu would be back and they wouldn’t have to abide by time limits. Shinji could talk to him and see his gap-toothed smile in the flesh.

Unless he no longer had it. In fact, Shinji was rapidly becoming aware of the fact that he hadn’t seen Kaworu in four years. In all their correspondences, neither had thought to send a picture. In his mind, Kaworu was still the tall, pale mung bean sprout he’d played tag with when he was younger, with tangled white hair and a crooked smile. Time had changed Shinji, so why would it have made an exception for Kaworu?

The dark room wobbled in Shinji’s vision as he quickly sat up. What if Kaworu expected the small boy he’d left behind? Time had done a number on Shinji’s body, stretching and pulling chubby limbs into a lithe figure. He remained the shortest in his class, but Shinji had mastered the use of his new legs and his friend Toji had made sure he put them to good use.

But what if appearances weren’t the only that had changed over time? Germany was a completely different country, a different culture all together. A lot could be kept out of a letter, Shinji knew that well enough. There had been some things he had failed to mention to Kaworu to prevent unnecessary worry. What if Kaworu came back and he was more like… Shinji swallowed hard, his saliva getting stuck in his throat as his heart dropped into his stomach. What if Kaworu was more like Asuka?

The thought was enough to make his stomach turn. Asuka was a good kid, he had nothing against her. She could just be… very overwhelming. Her forward and slightly aggressive nature had become her charm, but after a year of her charming ways Shinji still wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle such a drastic personality change in Kaworu.

So lost in thought was Shinji that he hadn’t noticed the second presence in his room that knelt beside him patiently. It cleared its throat gently before speaking in a soft whisper.

“Aniki, you’ve been talking out loud again.”

There was a crash and the sound of feet scuffling across wood floors as Shinji threw himself at his desk to turn on the light.

“Rei,” Shinji hissed, clutching the lamp for support. “How long have you been here? Did you knock? Why didn’t you knock? I told you, you can’t just come into my room without permission! We’re not kids anymore!”

The youngest Ikari stared blankly at her brother as she tried to think of an appropriate response for all of his questions. She had walked in at some point between gap-tooth and mung beans. No, she had not knocked, mostly because she had grown worried that Shinji was having another night terror. Over the past few months, they had increased and Rei felt entirely responsible for them. Despite his reassurances that it was an accident and he was ‘over it’, Shinji had not been the same since last summer.

After a long minute of silence and unbroken eye contact, Rei found that no answer would suffice. The only solution would be to redo the whole scenario. She stood up without a word and left the room, leaving Shinji half hunched over a desk and mildly confused. He hadn’t meant he wanted her out, if anything she was a welcomed distraction. Another moment passed and someone gently knocked on his door.

“Aniki, can I come in?”

Sometimes he couldn’t understand his sister’s train of thought. Rei could be blunt and literal, and yet so very unpredictable, something their mother said she inherited from their father. It was a struggle to contain his fit of giggles, one slightly sweaty palm tightly sealing his mouth to prevent anything louder than a snort from escaping his nostrils.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked breathlessly, ushering her into his bedroom and into his desk chair.

“Too excited,” she replied with a shrug.

It wasn’t a complete lie. When the news of Kaworu’s return had come in, Shinji had announced it to the entire complex. Not that anyone really showed anything other than polite interest. After all, no one had really cared about the unsettling looking boy in the first place. Many of them had already forgotten about him.

She admitted that even she could scarcely remember much about him. A few memories lingered here and there, faint images of sticking bright blue flowersin stark white hair, thin frail fingers teaching her how to fold a paper cup. He had been a very dear friend to her as a child, but Rei had been so young when he left that his absence had very little impact on her. Lots of kids came in and out of Tokyo-3, it was a city built to house families of the big businesses but mostly the NERV research labs. People were constantly relocated and Kaworu had been no exception.

Besides, she got the feeling that Kaworu meant more to her brother than he did to her. If his returning meant Shinji’s happiness, then she too was happy.

“I wish we could have picked him up at the airport,” Shinji grumbled, dropping onto his bed unceremoniously.

“Mom wouldn’t like it if you missed more school. You barely made it into Yūyake, aniki. Everyone gets into Yūyake.”

“I know,” Shinji groaned, voice saturated with disappointment. She didn’t mean any harm by bringing up his past mishaps, but Shinji had already grown tired of hearing about how he’d almost thrown away his future. Not that attending Yūyake meant you had a very bright one in the first place. It was almost exclusively meant for the kids whose parents worked for NERV . No NERV member’s child was turned away, even if they had a history of poor grades. Yet the eldest son of the great Gendo Ikari had nearly been rejected acceptance.

Shinji let out a long sign. All he had wanted to do was pick Kaworu up from the airport, to be the first person to see the unveiling of his new childhood friend.

“Do me a favor, Rei,” he mumbled, grabbing his still-too-warm pillow and dropping it onto his face. “Wake me up when aliens attack. Maybe then everyone will forget what a big screw up I am.”

“Shinji…” Rei frowned, barely visible by the dim lighting of the lamp. If there was one thing her big brother was not it was a screw up. He had been her hero as a child and even now, when they were both undergoing the trials of adolescence, she thought of him as the strongest person in her life. Rei only hoped he’d see it, too.

With little effort, she had left her seat to stand before Shinji, snatching the pillow up with more force than necessary. There were so many words she wanted to say to comfort him, to let Shinji know how much he meant to her, that not everything was his fault. But as always, when she opened her mouth, the words tripped and stumbled, getting lost along the way. It was useless to try and find them now, by the time she did they would be irrelevant.

“Mom said we can go see the Fuyutsuki’s after school. Get some rest or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else you’ll make Kaworu worry. Good night, aniki.”   
Once more, Rei had silently left his room.

That was right. For all his worrying about appearances and changes, Kaworu was still Kaworu. Even if he didn’t see him that night, he would see him the next day, and the day after that. He could finally stop buying stamps and paper.

Kaworu had come home.


End file.
